Chapter 11
“Come on!” Aunt Sadi cried, dragging Dorothy out of the way of the fight.
“Where are we going?” Dorothy demanded, annoyed that her aunt wouldn’t let her stick around to help Warren and Michael. “They need someone to stand with them! They can’t do this alone!”
“And you think that diving in there is going to be any good? You’re naive. Come on, we need to fetch Mac. He’s the only one who can do anything about this!”
“Mac? What’s he going to do?” Dorothy asked, trying to pull free of her aunt. The older woman had a surprisingly strong grip.
“You’ll see. He still has some standing in this town,” Sadie said. “Now stop being difficult. You can’t help your friends by getting yourself in trouble.”
Dorothy gave up the fight with her aunt and reluctantly followed. Maybe if they got to Mac and hurried back, she’d still be able to lend a hand however she could.
They ran out of the town and up the drive to the hotel. Dorothy was quite out of breath when they finally reached the reception. Sadie was also breathing heavily, and her cheeks were red either from the exertion or the cold.
They rushed to Mac’s office and halted abruptly as they heard loud voices coming from behind the wooden door.
“… doing here?” Mac demanded.
“We were sent to get your signature on these documents,” a voice that sounded like Foster’s said, his tone exasperated. Perhaps he had said those words before to Mac, who was just not listening.
“It will take a great load off your shoulders,” Barnes said, speaking in a slow and measured voice as though to someone hard of hearing. Did they think that Mac was somehow impaired and unable to grasp what they were saying?
“And this is what again?” Mac asked. He wasn’t senile, Dorothy knew. He was worried. Possibly distracted.
That wasn’t good. A distracted Mac could make mistakes.
“It’s a power of attorney for anything to do with the firm,” Barnes said in the same stiff, loud voice.
“It will allow Mr. Devlin and Mr. Harding to make decisions while you are out here in the sticks. It’s clear that the hotel needs you right now, what with the rat problem and all the trouble in the town. ”
“They understand and want to help,” Foster said. He sounded slimy, as though he was trying to slither into Mac’s mind. “You can’t be in two places at once. This takes the worry of dealing with firm business from you. You don’t need to try and split your attention between two places.”
Dorothy’s blood froze. Those weasels were trying to convince Mac that he should sign over his rights to govern the firm! He couldn’t do that. She was suddenly overcome with terror of what it would mean if Harding and Devlin took over in New York. She had to get in there and stop Mac from signing.
Grabbing the handle and without knocking, Dorothy flung the door open.
“Stop right there!” she yelled.
The door swung inward and slammed against the wall, very nearly bouncing back to hit her in the face before she caught it.
Three startled men standing in front of Mac’s large desk stared at her and Aunt Sadie.
She and Aunt Sadie stared at them. Dorothy was relieved to see that, although Mac had been holding the paper in his hands and reading it, it didn’t look like he’d signed it yet.
“Dorothy?” Mac asked, finding his voice first. “What’s wrong?”
“Trouble,” she managed. “In the town!”
“We need you, Douglas,” Sadie said, using his given name, which no one but her was allowed to use.
Mac nodded. “Right.” He headed for the door.
“Uh, we weren’t finished,” Foster objected. “All you have to do is sign and we’ll be out of your way.”
Mac turned to him and shook his head. “You’re never out of my way.
The rats that Jasper seems to have already gotten rid of were less in my way than you are.
And there is no way on God’s green earth that I’m ever signing that document.
So, you can scurry back to Jude and Peter and tell them that my company will remain mine until the day I die.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a problem to solve.
Shall we, ladies?” He smiled at Dorothy and Sadie.
With his hands resting on the small of their backs, he ushered them from his office.
“They really thought they could get you to sign?” Dorothy asked.
“We can talk later. Tell me what’s happening in the town,” Mac said urgently.
Talking quickly, often cutting each other off, Sadie and Dorothy told Mac about the bonfire lighting and the events that followed.
Mac shook his head. “It’s Brett again? Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Dorothy said with a decisive nod. “Do you know him?”
“I know of him, I suppose you’d say,” Mac said. He squared his shoulders. “I guess I’ll find out more now. I’m quite looking forward to confronting him.”
With Mac hurrying beside them, Dorothy felt empowered as they hurried back to the town. Older though he might be, he was still a tall and impressive man, with broad shoulders and a steady, focused stride.
How could anyone think that a capable man like Mac would consider handing over the reins to his empire?
Harding and Devlin weren’t usually fools.
Did they think that they had worn him down enough for that?
This was a great concern, but so was what was happening in the town square.
Dorothy would have to puzzle this out later.
The scene at the bonfire had changed in the few minutes that Dorothy and Sadie had taken to fetch Mac.
Warren and Michael weren’t the only ones fighting back.
Perhaps it was the mayor’s words in his speech, or perhaps the locals were feeling bad because strangers were taking a stand while they were too scared.
Whatever the reason, there were another three men engaged in a brawl with Brett and his boys.
The other locals were fleeing. Some of Brett’s boys, who were not engaged in the fight, were terrorizing them. One young man dragged a woman by her hair across the square. No one seemed to be inclined to stop him.
Dorothy bent and picked up a stone. Pulling her arm back, she released the stone with all her might, and it flew with deadly accuracy. It hit the young man upside the head, and he flopped to the ground like a dead fish.
“Good heavens!” Mac exclaimed. “Well done! You’re quite a marksman.”
Dorothy shrugged. “You never wanted to let me learn to use a slingshot when I was a child, so of course, I had to get good at throwing rocks another way.”
He laughed. “All right, let’s see what can be done.”
Sticking out his arm, Mac stopped a young man who hadn’t seen him, too busy with the sacks on his shoulders. They clanked as the boy tottered and dropped. The sacks’ ties came loose and pewter tankards, silverware, a few trinkets, metal plates, and even a pot or two rolled out onto the ground.
Spotting another ruffian making off with things that clearly weren’t his, Dorothy threw another stone. This one pinged into the boy’s temple and he staggered, stumbling over a chair and landing in a heap with another boy, who instantly started pummeling him.
Picking up another stone, she got ready to fling it at a third member of Brett’s gang.
“What is going on?” Sadie frowned. “Are they stealing from everyone in town? This is terrible.”
Mac had moved on. He was in the fray now, and being so tall, he was easy to spot. The young boys might have greater speed, but they were spindly little creatures in comparison to the sturdy muscle that was Mac. He hardly seemed to have to do anything, and they fell in his wake.
Dorothy was reminded of kings in fairy tales. When they were on the side of righteousness, they felled their enemies with hardly a sweep of their swords, much like Goliath and David. Watching Mac was like that. And then his voice rang out from the middle of the conflict.
“ENOUGH! EVERYBODY STOP FIGHTING!”
It took a moment, but his voice carried such authority that people responded quickly, their fists lowering, their rage replaced with curiosity. They looked around to see who would dare to interrupt their sport.
“That’s enough!” Mac continued.
“What gives you the right to tell anyone what to do, old man?” a voice asked.
Dorothy craned her neck and found that it was Brett. The brawlers parted and let him stand in front of Mac. He was like the young prince, challenging the old king for his crown. He stood with easy strength, no doubt counting on his side’s better numbers to carry him through.
“Ah, you must be Brett,” Mac said with a grin that Dorothy knew all too well.
Anyone on the receiving end of that wicked smile was in trouble.
Brett’s days as pseudo-town king were over.
She was sure of it. “It’s good to finally see the rat that is causing so much chaos in my town.
I ought to set my rat catcher on you. He’s extremely efficient. ”
“Your town?” Brett asked. “This is my town, old man!” He looked around at his cronies, who had moved to stand behind him. They all jeered and nodded, cheering him on.
Dorothy spotted Warren moving to stand behind Mac. He and Michael looked a little dirty and bruised but not badly hurt. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Mac shrugged. “Is this your town? Then is this how you treat your things, with such great disrespect that you’ll steal from folks who have been struggling to put food on the table since you arrived?
You’ll starve them, make them homeless and sick, and think you’ve done a good job?
” He shook his head sadly. “You have a lot to learn.”
“Oh please! I get what’s mine regardless. You’re just an empty husk, old man. Go sign your papers and keep your mouth shut. Your time is over.” Brett stepped in close to Mac and grinned at him.
Dorothy grabbed Sadie’s arm, wondering how Brett knew about the papers. She tensed as Mac turned a little way from Brett, that grin still on his lips. It was clear on Mac’s face for anyone who knew him to see what was coming.